


Pleased as Punch

by PoorWendy



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, No Refractory Period, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 00:32:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15303516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoorWendy/pseuds/PoorWendy
Summary: Peter is not at all familiar with Asgardian refractory periods.So Peter's feeling pretty smug.





	Pleased as Punch

**Author's Note:**

> For ThorQuill Week - Day 6: Pride
> 
> Fourth verse, same as the first! Guardians encounter the Revengers somewhere in happy space in a pre-or-non-IW type situation. Everyone gets along famously. Peter and Thor especially so.

Peter’s feeling pretty smug right now.

Well, he always feels pretty smug doing this to Thor. Doing _anything_ to Thor. It does something to his already easily inflated ego just to know that Thor even wants him to do it all to him.

The sounds coming out of him right now as Peter sucks him are just divine. And Peter’s really giving it his all, throat lax and sore as he swallows Thor’s cock again and again, breath coming out deep and steady through his nose, eyes watering.

Thor’s rubbing grateful fingertips against Peter’s scalp, tangling into his hair. “I’m close,” he says, and Peter glances up at him as best he can, because _fuck_ Peter loves to watch him when he’s close. He’s hard in his own pants, kneeling on the ground between Thor’s legs, Thor leaning back in Peter’s chair.

Peter doesn’t even care how he comes himself. He’s only thinking about Thor right now, wants him to make more sounds, wants him to spill down his throat.

He hums around Thor’s cock, runs his hands up Thor’s clothed thighs, brushes Thor’s balls with his thumb through the fabric of his pants. He wishes he could tell him to come, tell him to let go, tell him he’s so good, but instead he just bobs his head in Thor’s lap and hollows his cheeks and makes more vaguely encouraging sounds.

“Peter,” Thor warns, hips jerking. “Peter, I’m coming,” he says urgently, grips Peter’s hair as he empties into Peter’s throat. And this, this Peter’s getting good at. The swallowing everything down so smoothly and sweetly that Thor gets that pained look in his eyes. He’s getting real good at that.

So he does, and Thor does. And Peter’s expecting him to sag back in his chair, to regroup. And he does. For like, two seconds. Then he’s grabbing Peter by the collar and pulling him up to meet his face so he can kiss him hard, and Peter shivers thinking how fresh Thor’s come still is in his mouth as Thor pushes his tongue inside. Then he pulls away just as roughly.

“Stand up,” Thor says, urgent. And Peter stands, too caught off-guard by his intensity to do anything but obey. Thor goes for his belt, unbuckles it, nearly rips Peter’s pants open to pull his cock out. He starts stroking Peter, slowly, pausing to press grateful, hungry little kisses to his shaft. “Want you,” he says.

“What do you want?” Peter asks. It comes out cool and sexy and level-headed, which is quite the accomplishment since he suddenly feels like he’s on fire, with that _look_ in Thor’s eyes. “God, you’re worked up.” Thor’s jerking him, the tip of Peter’s cock an inch from his face. “You want me to come on you? Gonna take me a minute.”

Thor shakes his head. “No,” he pants, “no, don’t come yet,” he says, and lets go of Peter which is just devastating. His hands rush down to his own pants as he stands, pushing them down, pulling them off, kicking them aside.

He steps up, presses himself to Peter, grabs Peter’s hand and pulls it around behind him, coaxing Peters fingers between his cheeks. “Jesus,” Peter mutters against Thor’s mouth. “You want my fingers?”

Thor nods, kisses Peter, sucks his bottom lip. “Your fingers,” he says, “and then your cock.”

 _God damn._ “Okay,” Peter agrees, rather than asking if Thor’s sure. Thor’s always fucking sure. “You think you can come again for me?”

Thor nods again. “Yes,” he breathes heavily.

Peter grabs Thor’s ass tight in one hand, brings the other up behind his head to pet his hair. “Fuck,” he sighs. “Fuck, okay. Get on the bed,” he says, and lets Thor go.

Thor kisses Peter again, all hunger and desperation, before he complies. He strips his shirt off, getting himself completely naked, and Peter will never quite get over the sight of that: Thor _naked._ It’s like a fucking joke. He’s like a painting. He’s like a dream. Hard muscle and smooth, tanned skin. Peter watches it all shift and flex and tighten as Thor climbs onto the bed and settles on his back.

“Good, perfect,” Peter says, stroking himself a little. He can’t quite help it. He pulls his own shirt off, mostly just for something else to do with his hands so he doesn’t jerk himself right the fuck off then and there. He throws his shirt on the ground. His pants and underwear quickly follow. “Get the lube for me,” he says, climbing up to kneel beside Thor on the bed. He could get it himself, but Thor’s all keyed up. Peter thinks he’ll like having a couple extra orders to follow.

Thor whines and twists onto his front, crawls to the edge of the bed to dig around in the bedside table drawer. He grabs the lube, huffs as he flips onto his back again and holds it out to Peter. Peter goes to take it. Thor pulls it back, holds out an empty hand instead. “Give me your hand, “ he says.

Peter nods. He guesses Thor has it in him to give a couple extra orders too. Damn, he’s in rare form tonight. It’s not unlike him to be needy, or thirsty, or authoritative. But tonight it’s like there’s this big mash-up of all of it at war in Thor. He’s just _on._

Peter gives Thor his hand. Thor sits up to suck on Peter’s fingers before he actually opens the lube and dribbles it on them. He slicks Peter up generously, drops the lube beside him, pulls Peter not-quite-gently by the wrist until Peter’s fingertips are under Thor’s balls.

“God, what’s gotten into you?” Peter pants, has to fight the urge to grab his own cock again as Thor spreads his legs wide, pressing two of Peter’s fingertips against his hole.

“Trying to get _you_ into me,” Thor says, raising an eyebrow, smirking a little somewhere underneath all the want.

Peter grins at that. “You’re trouble tonight,” he says, and pushes his fingers inside Thor. He could be a little gentler. But he’s learned a lot about what Thor can handle, and Thor can definitely handle this. Thor doesn’t complain, just gasps and hums gratefully.

Peter’s rushing. He’s rushing just a little. Because he didn’t really figure he’d be fucking Thor tonight. He figured Thor’d just suck him off or jerk him off. Something quick and sloppy. But now he gets even more of him. He’ll get to bury his cock in Thor’s ass and he’s starting to get a little eager about it. So he takes his time, but only just as much time as he needs.

After a few minutes his fingers are deep in Thor, twisting and stretching and reaching for his prostate. Once he finds it, he’s a little relentless about it. Since Thor just came, he knows he can be generous, knows he can tease and push and milk Thor about as much as he damn well pleases and Thor will still hold out for him when he gets his cock inside him.

“You like that?” Peter asks, as if it isn’t obvious, the way Thor’s writhing on his back, the way Thor’s running his hands over himself, the way Thor’s keening at every twist of Peter’s wrist. But he wants to hear Thor say it.

“Yes,” Thor hisses, long and low. “It’s good, don’t stop.”

Peter grins. “Don’t stop?” he asks, voice high and filled with feigned sympathy. “I’ll have to stop sometime,” he points out gently, condescendingly, “to put my cock in you.”

“Not yet,” Thor pants out. “Not yet, not yet.”

Peter pushes inside him a little rougher. “Okay,” he agrees, “okay, baby.”

Thor’s pushing his hips down, twisting them, trying to double the impact of every move of Peter’s fingers, fucking himself on them. He starts groaning, whining louder and louder in some big crescendo the way he usually does when he’s close. Peter’s about to say something about that to him when Thor snaps his eyes open, stares helplessly at Peter, arches his back and comes all over his own chest.

“Oh my _god,”_ Peter gasps, eyes wide. “Holy shit.” His cock is _throbbing_ as he watches Thor come in stripes on himself, and Peter stills his fingers, taking himself in his free hand and stroking himself without thinking. “Holy shit, baby.”

He sits back on his heels, gracelessly fucking his left fist, his right hand still busy with its fingers inside Thor. “What’re you doing?” Thor asks, lazy, eyes heavy. Peter only offers a confused look in response, too turned on to waste his time explaining that he _really wants to fucking come_ right now. “No,” Thor says, reaching out, swatting at Peter’s hand.

Peter whines. “Oh, baby, come on. I gotta come.”

Thor nods, props himself up on his elbows, fire already relighting behind his eyes. “Don’t,” he says, “don’t. Fuck me. Come in me.”

Peter’s jaw drops. He sees the mess on Thor’s chest, can still taste Thor’s come in his mouth, and here Thor is, asking Peter to fuck him. It would be enough to go to his head if it wasn’t all going straight to his cock.

“You still wa—” Peter starts to ask disbelievingly, but Thor cuts him off.

“Do it,” he says. “Come on, please,” he begs, lying back again, reaching out for Peter, and Peter gives in, leans down, lets Thor pull him flat against his chest, come smearing between them. “Here,” Thor says, half-into Peter’s mouth, one hand groping beside them for the lube while the other is flat against Peter’s back, pulling him close. “Here,” he says again, bringing the bottle between their bodies.

Peter’s frantic as he pushes himself up with one arm, other hand held out so that Thor can squirt a generous—like, seriously generous—amount into his palm. Peter reaches down and slicks up his cock, indulging himself too much in the process, feels like he’s unable to stop stroking himself for a minute because, _fuck,_ he’s so hard, it feels so good. Then he looks at Thor’s face, leans down, kisses him as he lines up with Thor’s hole.

It takes a lot of strength to be patient, to be slow enough to give Thor time to adjust. And it doesn’t help that Thor’s clawing at Peter’s ass and wriggling around beneath him, breathing heavily, _mewling._

“Careful, baby,” Peter says, and which one of them is he talking to, exactly? “Careful, take it easy.”

“I’ll be fine,” Thor insists, grabbing and pulling at Peter. “Just hold out for me,” he goes on, and would ask what the fuck he’s talking about, but the feeling of burying himself in Thor is the only thing he has the cognitive capacity for.

“Shit,” Peter hisses. “Shit, you feel good. You okay? Is it good?”

Thor nods. “It’s good, it’s good. Go like this for a while.”

Peter could almost laugh. _A while._ Like he’ll be able to last that long. Like Thor can actually take that much more before he fades. “Okay,” his mouth agrees, and he pulls back a bit, pushes back inside. And Thor moans, rolls his head back against the pillow, and Peter presses his lips to Thor’s exposed neck. “Whatever you want,” Peter says against Thor’s skin.

“Yeah,” Thor says. “Yeah, like this.” Peter nods, pushes in again. “Like this for now.”

“‘For now?’” Peter echoes.

Thor nods, lowers his chin, lifts a hand up to angle Peter’s jaw so he can look in his eyes. “For now,” he says. “Then I want you to flip me over.”

Peter eyes snap shut. He can feel Thor’s words in his cock. “Fuck, baby.” He pushes in a little harder, a little faster. Tells himself to keep it together, keep himself under control.

“Yeah,” Thor moans. “Oh, just like that.” So Peter keeps going, just like that. Thor’s breathing against his lips until Peter drops his head beside Thor’s on the pillow, and then Thor’s breathing heavy against his ear, keeps saying _yes_ and _perfect_ and _Peter_. Peter puts a hand up on the headboard behind Thor, pulling himself along a little more with every thrust.

“God, you feel amazing,” Peter grits out. “You’re amazing, I’m getting— _ngh _—I’m getting—”__

__“I know, I know, I know,” Thor chants, soft, encouraging. “Okay, hang on, hang on.” That feels fucking impossible. Peter’s impressed at his own strength when he slows his hips, then stops them. “Let me turn over.”_ _

__Peter nods, pulls slowly out of Thor, wonders how he’s still breathing. Thor turns over, gets on his hands and knees. Peter squirts a little more lube into his hand, slicks himself up a bit more, pushes back inside Thor in one long, smooth motion. Thor groans and reaches out for the headboard, bracing himself against it as Peter starts to thrust into him again. “Oh,” he moans, voice high, too loud. “Oh, Thor.” He weaves his arm under Thor’s waist, pulls him back for every forward push. “It’s good, it’s so good,” his mouth is chanting without his permission. “You’re perfect—perfect— _perfect.”__ _

__“Keep going,” Thor begs, drops his hand from the headboard, drops to his elbows, arches his back. “Keep going.”_ _

__Peter does, goes faster, throwing himself into Thor, hips slapping against Thor’s ass loud and quick. “I can’t—” he stutters, _“oh_ , I can’t wait much longer.”_ _

__Thor drops down farther, chest and shoulders flat against the mattress, no longer matching Peter’s thrusts with his hips, body limp besides his fingers clutching at the comforter. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” he’s calling out, nearly shouting, and suddenly he’s gasping, “I’m coming.”_ _

__And Peter swears he heard him wrong, but he grabs Thor’s hips for purchase, cranes his neck far to the left, and sure enough, Thor’s cock is spilling onto the bed, and Peter cries out, throws his head back, hips jerking wildly as he comes hard inside Thor._ _

__Once he’s spent, Peter pulls out of Thor and collapses on top of him. “Baby,” he pants, “oh _baby.”_ The bed is a mess, their bodies in a heap on top of so much of Thor’s come. Peter doesn’t have the strength to say everything he wants to say. He barely has the strength to stay awake._ _

__He doesn’t, in fact, quite have the strength to stay awake. They both doze off for some amount of time before rousing and getting up to clean off, change the sheets, settle in for the night._ _

__All the while, Peter’s saying _oh my god_ and kissing Thor and telling him how _good_ he was, nevermind how proud Peter is of himself. Which he is. He finally falls asleep with a self-satisfied smile on his face, Thor nestled against his chest._ _

__

__\---_ _

__

__“Your _Star-Lord_ seems in good spirits this morning,” Valkyrie observes with a raised eyebrow, sitting at breakfast with Thor and Loki as Peter gets himself some food._ _

__Thor grins. “Does seem that way, doesn’t he?”_ _

__“Anything to do with all that noise you two were making last night?” she asks through a mouth full of food._ _

__Thor just grins some more._ _

__Loki shakes his head. Thor can tell he’s trying not to laugh. “Perfectly pleased with himself, isn’t he?” he says. “I mean, more than usual.”_ _

__Thor’s still in enough of an afterglow to overshare. “He made me finish three times,” he points out._ _

__Valkyrie laughs out loud, and Loki scrunches up his nose. “I’m _eating,”_ he protests._ _

__“Is that not typical for Midgardians?” Valkyrie asks._ _

__Thor shakes his head. “It is not.”_ _

__“And does he know that?”_ _

__Thor laughs. “He does not. I think I’ll let him have this one, though.”_ _

__Peter makes his way to the table with a spring in his step. Thor will have to come clean about it sometime, but he can’t burst Peter’s bubble just yet. That smug smile is too adorable._ _


End file.
